


Broken Sunglasses

by JayNice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blind Character, Blind Dean, Blind!Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayNice/pseuds/JayNice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Submitted by my-wayward-son-carry-on on tumblr. Originally posted on tumblr. Prompt: “It's a high school AU and Dean (blind!Dean obvs) and Sam are at a new school. And Dean hates it when people feel sorry for him and try to help him because he hates feeling incompetent (or people think he's incompetent)<br/>So Dean is walking down the hallway trying to find the damn bathroom and once he finally does he walks into the girls bathroom. And that's when Cas quickly pulls Dean from hell the girls bathroom. You can have them bickering about how he didn’t need help, or they become best friends from the start.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Sunglasses

“Dammit, Sam, let go of me,” Dean muttered through clenched teeth, roughly tugging his arm from Sam’s grasp. While in any other circumstances he would allow his brother to lead him in an environment as crowded as this, he wasn’t about to ruin his image on his first day at this school. Sure, he already appeared like an invalid with his dark sunglasses and white cane, but he didn’t need to be holding his little brother's hand, for god’s sake.

“Sorry,” Sam instantly replied. “I just thought—”

“I don’t need your help,” Dean growled, tapping his cane in front of him as he and Sam walked through what he assumed was the high school courtyard. He was following the sound of Sam’s footprints, trusting his brother not to lead him astray as they made their way to the counselor Dad had talked to about Dean's situation. He was supposed to be assigned to someone with the Sam schedule as him to show him to all his classes, which was a relief; at their last school, Sam had led Dean to all of his classes, much to his embarrassment. However, Dean thought that he’d be able to get along fine by himself. That’s what the cane was for, right? Being led around like a lamb to slaughter caused people to stare and think _“Oh, that poor blind boy…”_ Dean hated the feeling of incompetence that overwhelmed him when he couldn’t even perform the simplest tasks, like walking to class. “How much farther?” he pressed, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

“Almost there, ten yards or so,” Sam answered.

Dean nodded, then continued to trail after his brother further into the doom that was high school. He heard a door squeak and felt the air change, which meant that they’d finally made it in the office.

“Hello, Sam and Dean!” exclaimed a cheery voice. Too cheery, Dean decided, and probably overweight. _Overweight and happy_ was what her tone said, and Dean hated her instantly. Judging by her prolonged silence, she was looking at him and internally pitying him. There was probably a thin smile as she clasped her hands and continued, “I’m Mrs. Stephens. It’s nice to have you boys.”

“It’s nice to be here,” Sam courtly replied. “Seriously, this place beats our old school.”

He could hear the blinding smile in her voice as Mrs. Stephens continued, “That’s wonderful!” Based on the direction her voice was coming from, Dean could tell that she was facing him now. His cheeks automatically flushed, hating that some attention was on him. “Dean, sweetie, I’d like to introduce you to Lisa Braeden. She’ll be your buddy to help you around campus.”

_Buddy_. The word echoed in Dean’s mind, and he hated Mrs. Stephens for it. And the fact that she’d just called him “sweetie” didn’t help anything.

He was about to protest that he didn’t really need a “buddy,” when the other girl in the room said, “Hello, Dean.” Now, her voice was much better. It was soft and silky, like honey flowing down his throat. Dean imagined her as having thin curves and dark curls. She was probably one of the hottest girls in school. Such a pretty voice didn’t come without a pretty body. “I’m Lisa. Nice to meet you.”

She grabbed his hand delicately, and he shook it, glad to feel the tenderness of her hand. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he replied courteously, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. He imagined her grinning back, a sweet blush fanning her cheeks. Her hand left his eventually, though, and his slightly-elated mood fell once more. Looked like handshakes were as intimate as they’d get.

“I’ll be showing you around the school,” she continued. “You can sit with me in class and everything. My friends are cool with it.”

“Sweet,” Dean mumbled. While he would feel grateful to be accepted, he knew that everyone would ostracize him due to his disability. That might be “cool” with it, but they’ll still glare at him judgmentally since they know he can’t see it.

The morning bell rang, and Lisa said, “There’s the first bell. We have science first, so I’ll show you the way.”

Dean felt her grab his arm not unlike Sam had done mere minutes earlier, and he jerked it away. “I can follow by myself,” he said shortly.

“Are you sure?” After her mess up, at least Lisa had the decency to sound worried for him. “The halls can get pretty crowded, I don’t want you to get separated from me…”

“Trust me, I’m fine,” he said, trying to ease her fears.

Then Sam’s voice piped up. Dean had almost forgotten his brother was there since he’d been so quiet. “Dean, just be cooperative,” he begged. “I’ll meet you at lunch.”

Behind his shades, Dean rolled his unseeing eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

* * *

Dean hated school on the best of days, but moving to a new one? That just multiplied the feeling of being unwanted by a thousand. At least at his previous schools, people knew that he was blind. After a few days at a certain school, people get used to the fact that Dean Winchester is blind. On the first day of school, however, he could literally feel everyone staring at him as he walked down the hall, clinging to the probably incredibly hot Lisa Braeden like she’s his lifeline. She was right; the halls were packed full of students, each of which seemed to take their time to stare at him as he walked by. Or, at least, that’s what he imagined them doing.

As they walked, Lisa tried to make casual conversation with him. “Mr. Cooper is the science teacher, and he’s kinda a jerk. He pretends like he knows how to teach, but he doesn’t. Were you in physics at your old school?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “My old teacher was a hag. Could totally feel how wrinkled her skin was each time she grabbed my hand—and she did that all the time…”

Lisa chuckled softly. There was a nervous pause, before she said, “You’ll probably think I’m a jerk for asking, but how did you…?”

Her voice trailed off uncomfortably, but Dean knew the question. He’d heard it every day of his life for ten years. “Fell down some stairs,” he said bluntly. “Stupid mistake.”

“Oh,” Lisa said, voice only a shell of what it had been moments before. She sounded sad, and Dean could tell that she was probably looking down and worrying her lower lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean said quickly, sending her growing pity for him. He hated being pitied. People didn’t need to feel sorry about him. He already loathed the fact that he had someone help him freakin’ walk around a school. “So tell me about the other teachers. Any hot ones?”

* * *

Morning classes went well. He had science, English, art (which was a pain in the ass), and math before lunch. No one spoke to him but Lisa and his teachers. No one called him out on being blind. No one tried to help him with simple tasks like getting a pencil from his bag or flipping to a page in his special Braille textbook. Dean was relieved about that, because if someone else had tried to assist him with something as petty as that, he would have flipped his lid.

But, just when he’d started thinking that Lisa was cool, he’d overheard a conversation she’d been having with some ugly-voiced girl in their calculus class when she thought he couldn’t hear them.

Never assume a blind guy can’t hear you.

“Well, he’s nice, but you know I’m only doing this for credit or I won’t graduate.”

“Yeah,” the friend had replied. “‘Cause who wants to lead around a blind guy?”

Lisa’s laugh made Dean want to slam his fist into something. “I know, right?” she’d responded. “It’s like being a human seeing-eye dog!”

Though Dean had heard words similar to those fifty times over, they never ceased to hurt.

True to his word, Sam found him, carrying a lunch tray filled with something that smelled like rotten hamburger meat. “Hey, Dean,” he said, voice guiding his brother over to where the tables were. Dean obediently followed, smiling sneakily.

“Hey, nerd,” he said, reaching over to where he knew Sam’s head was and ruffling his hair. It was long, maybe it was time for the kid to get a haircut… “Good day so far?”

He could practically hear Sam beaming. “Oh yeah. My teachers are awesome, and I met a kid named Brady who’s in most of my classes, and he introduced me to a really pretty girl named Jess.”

“Jess, huh?” Dean repeated. “What’s she look like?” “She, uh… she’s got blonde hair and gray eyes, and she’s skinny, but not too skinny. Man, Dean… You’d love her, she’s so gentle and calm. Killer sense of humor. She turned out to be my partner in science today.”

“Ask her out before we move again, Sammy,” Dean said, offering his brotherly advice. “She sounds great.”

Sam hesitated. “I don’t know, maybe.” He took a drink from his milk carton; Dean could tell by the tell-tale lid of the drink popping open, then Sam’s heavy slurps. “What about Lisa?"

Dean was caught off-guard by the question. “What about her?” he asked grumpily, not wishing to discuss the girl whom he’d thought might treat him like he was normal.

He could tell Sam was shrugging. “She was eyeballing you this morning, like she wanted you. She’s got dark hair, you know, and she’s shaped like a supermodel. Just your type.”

Dean found himself shrugging in return, not really in the mood. “She’s got a pretty voice,” he admitted begrudgingly, “but she’s shallow. I overheard her talking to a friend who mentioned how she’s helping me around to make up for some credit that she’s missing for graduation.”

“Really?” By the swooshing sound of too-long hair hitting shirt, Dean could tell that Sam was shaking his head slowly. “She seemed genuinely nice.”

Dean huffed, poking at his sandwich while not particularly hungry. “No one does anything without motive,” he murmured. _Especially to me_ , he internally added.

He finally reached his tipping point in history class that day. The teacher was a bitch, he could tell that by her monotonous voice and the way she said, “Welcome, Dean Winchester. Your seat’s in the back.”

He nodded, Lisa letting go of his arm to go to her own seat. He’d normally sit with her, but some classes (like this) had pre-assigned seats. Slowly, dutifully, he felt his way to the back, feeling peoples’ hot glares on his back. He hated this feeling of incompetence, but he wasn’t about to ask for anyone’s help. He didn’t need someone helping him to merely find his seat to make him seem even more like a freaking invalid.

After feeling around, Dean finally found an empty seat in the back and sat down, fumbling to put his backpack on the back of his chair with a flush rising to his cheeks. It was times like this where he might as well be able to see, because he knew anyway that all eyes were on him.

He had a Braille textbook for US economics from his previous school, so he got it out, pretending to be following along with his hands as the teacher read aloud. In reality, though, he was listening to his classmates’ low murmurs.

“…blind kid…”

“Bet he’s retarded too…”

“…idiot…”

“Shouldn’t he be in, like, Special Ed classes or something?”

“God, I can’t believe I have to sit by him… I’m gonna catch the stupid!”

Dean was glad no one could see his eyes, because he could feel them welling with tears now. It was all too overwhelming, the insults hitting him like a dagger in the chest. All he ever wanted was for people to simply accept him. They didn’t even have to _like_ him, just understand the fact that he was blind, not retarded or stupid or freakin’ _contagious_. He was just like everyone else, but his eyes just didn’t work anymore.

Dean’s hand shot up. He didn’t even wait for the teacher to answer him before he asked, “Can I go to the restroom?” Somehow, he managed to keep the trembling out of his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Winchester,” the bitch responded, voice as tight as before. “I don’t suppose you need someone to show you the way?”

“No, I’m fine.” He could feel his hands shaking as he rose from his seat, tapping his cane and somehow making it out of the classroom. Once the door was shut behind him, he let the tears flow freely, taking off his sunglasses and rubbing his unseeing eyes. He knew the bathrooms were along this hall somewhere, so when he reached a space in the wall that gave way to a restroom, he hurriedly rushed into it.

Until some _asshole_ yanked on his hood and sent him toppling onto his backside. Dean grunted as he fell back into the hallway, not into the bathroom as he had hoped. His cane went flying, and the sunglasses he’d been holding gave a glorious _crunch_ as his hand slammed on the ground.

“Are you all right?” The voice that spoke to him was deep and rough around the edges. It was almost a growl, but it held no callousness. Upon hearing it, Dean’s mind immediately screamed _sex_.

However, the deep sex-voice didn’t stop Dean from getting angry.

“What the hell was that for?” he yelled, completely aware of the tears still openly streaming down his face, with no sunglasses to hide it. He wiped at the hot wetness furiously, trying to eradicate any evidence that he’d been crying even though he knew Mr. Sex-Voice had already seen his weakness.

“You, uh…” the other man stammered. “You were about to walk into the girl’s restroom.” Dean’s cheeks flamed, still upset at the asshole for making him fall and shatter his sunglasses, but grateful at him for literally pulling him from the depths of hell, aka the girl’s bathroom. “Oh, uh, thanks,” he said, slowly pushing himself upward from his fallen position. He winced as something twinged in his hand. “Oww…” he murmured.

“Your hand is bleeding,” the man said simply. His voice was awfully monotone, Dean noticed, but it held a certain concern to it that gave it depth. “Let me take you to the nurse’s office.”

“I’m fine,” Dean automatically responded, tapping his foot on the ground to see if he could somehow locate his cane. He was about to give up when the guy grabbed his non-injured hand, pressing the familiar cane into it.

“Here you are,” he said. “Now, let’s go to the nurse. You might need stitches.”

Something about the man’s voice combined with his gentle touch took Dean’s breath away, to the point where all he could respond with was, “Okay.”

Luckily, the guy didn’t grab his arm and let Dean simply follow him in the empty hallway. “My name is Castiel,” he said. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I just panicked, and knew that if you would walk in there, you’d be the talk of the school.”

“Already _am_ the talk of the school,” Dean murmured, rubbing his hand tenderly. He could feel the deep, stinging lacerations across his palm and the slick blood that was running down his arm. He pressed the injury gingerly to his shirt to stump the bleeding slightly.

There was a silence, and Dean could feel Castiel running his eyes over him. “What was the matter?” he asked softly. “I could see you crying.”

Dean shrugged noncommittally. “Blind man problems, ya know,” he quipped with a wry grin. It wasn’t much of a joke, but he heard Castiel chuckle in the slightest.

“I understand, the people in this school are jerks. I’m not blind, but am an outcast as well,” he replied. Dean could practically see him frowning.

“Well that’s cool. Looks like we’ll just be a band of outcasts, yeah Cas?” Dean said, smiling for real the first time this whole day.

“Looks like.” Dean could hear Cas smiling as well. “Uh… Cas?”

Dean felt himself blush. “Well, uh… Your name’s pretty long, and Cas is an easy nickname, so I…”

“It’s quite all right,” Cas replied. “One of my brothers calls me Cassie. Cas is… wonderful.”

_Wonderful_ , Dean repeated in his mind. Five minutes meeting this guy, and Dean was totally in love with this guy’s voice. He may not have liked people helping him just because he was blind, but he was somehow okay with how he and Cas held hands on the way to the nurse’s office that day.


End file.
